


'cause they hear we got swagger

by GreyishBlue



Series: time was so tangible [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Flirting, Drunk!Bucky, First Meetings, M/M, Old Man Hawkeye, Silver Fox!Clint, There's like a vague mention of a Daddy thing but it's not actually there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21567811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: Bucky Barnes is sitting halfway sprawled on a barstool when he sees the most gorgeous man to ever deserve a Silver Fox label. A soft, emphatic fuck drops from his lips as he watches the man damn near stalk through the bar before claiming his own stool just a couple feet down.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: time was so tangible [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562833
Comments: 43
Kudos: 146
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	'cause they hear we got swagger

**Author's Note:**

> Lolol I'm so sorry. Title from Ke$ha.
> 
> Written for Winterhawk Bingo: Free Square

Bucky Barnes is sitting halfway sprawled on a barstool when he sees the most gorgeous man to ever deserve a Silver Fox label. A soft, emphatic  **fuck** drops from his lips as he watches the man damn near stalk through the bar before claiming his own stool just a couple feet down. The man is incredibly thick through the chest and arms, must have been years in some kind of construction to get definition that good in his biceps. The rest of him is long and lean, sprawled in a way that was just casual enough. His hair is a myriad of greys, from dusk to glittering silver, trailing down to his shoulders, only half tied back to keep it from his severe face. The angle of his jaw should be illegal, even covered with salt and pepper scruff as it is. There's a weariness in his shock blue eyes as they scan across the bar, like he's more in a warzone than just the local dive bar. Between all that and the crook in his nose belying a few breaks over his years, he's the picture of everything Bucky has lusted over in his fairly young life. 

It takes him the rest of his shitty PBR to work up the courage, but he finally gets his ass up and slinks over to the chair next to Hot Older Guy. When he sits, the man instantly evaluates him, and the coldness of those eyes running clinically up and down his frame makes Bucky shiver. It's not even really like when people check him out. Bucky is pretty used to that, he knows he's pretty with his steel grey eyes and cupids bow smile. But this guy? He doesn't even seem to notice, he dismisses Bucky from his consideration after a quick sweep of his gaze. Bucky can feel the pout forming on his mouth at the casual brush off, and it makes him bold and confrontational in a way he's only felt a few times in his 27 years thus far.

"Come here often?" Bucky cringes inwardly at the absolute fuckery of that line, but puts on his most charming smile anyway and hopes desperately it works. The guy just... scoffs at him, like it’s some kind of joke. Bucky’s cheeks redden another few shades, warring between embarrassment and a small kernel of anger. Usually he’s alright with rejection, but tonight he’s a little tipsy and this guy is so… much. He leans into the older man’s space and lowers his voice so hopefully only they can hear it, “Aw come on mister, at least let me buy you a drink?”

This time the guy honest to god snorts out a laugh, and the way the smile tugs at the sides of his face shows off enough laugh lines that Bucky is back to melting into his seat at the sight. The guy straightens up and Bucky is struck again at the bulk of him, it’s been a while since anyone’s really made him feel short like this. When he finally turns those icy eyes back on Bucky, they’re filled with mirth. This time he pins Bucky with that gaze, slowly dragging his eyes along the lines of Bucky’s body until he’s nearly squirming at the intensity of it. Right as Bucky is sure he’s going to die of the tension, the guy’s deep rasp of a voice comes to him, “I’m old enough to be your father, pretty boy.”

And well.. Bucky wasn’t sure he had any kind of daddy thing, but something about being literally looked down on and called pretty in that tone of voice sends shivers down his spine and warmth through his skin. Maybe it’s dumb to persue this, but that hadn’t been an actual “no”, and the guy is still smirking at him, so Bucky figures he’s still got some kind of shot. He pouts out his bottom lip to his best advantage and looks up through his eyelashes at Tall, Silver, and Built as Hell, “So can I get you that drink if I call you Daddy?”

“I’d rather you call me Clint, to be honest.” he replies, but there’s a darkening of his eyes and one of his large hands lands on Bucky’s thigh, gives him a possessive squeeze. Christ, the span of the guy’s fingers makes Bucky feel small all over again. He hasn’t felt like a wispy twink since he started putting on muscle in his early twenties, hadn’t quite realized he missed it. He’s learning all sorts of new things about himself tonight, it seems. The warmth of Clint’s palm against his thigh distracts him enough that he has to refocus entirely to remember his manners.   
  
“I’m Bucky.” The breathiness of his own voice surprises him. He grapples for the last of the bravado that had brought him to sit down here, uses it to lean in and murmur against Clint’s ear, “but you can call me anything you want.”

Clint’s laughter this close makes Bucky feel honey covered and warm, there’s a thrill of pleasure running through him at making the older man sound like that. Clint pulls back enough to signal something to the bartender, and very courteously doesn’t point out Bucky’s soft whine at the loss of proximity. He shifts back into Bucky’s space easily, like he’s got all the right in the world. The confidence of it just makes Bucky feel needy, and he desperately tries to figure out what he can say to make this guy take him home and ruin him. Before he can come up with The Best Line Ever, there’s the clink of a glass being set down by his elbow. Bucky just manages to stop staring at the jaunty angle of Clint’s lips to see the two drinks.

“Here, drink this.” Clint’s handing him one of the glasses, tone leaving no room for argument, so Bucky takes a sip. His eyebrows shoot up when he realizes it’s just water, and he frowns.   
  
“I’m not that drunk!” He protests, but it’s not very effective with the straw halfway in his mouth as he continues to sip. 

“But you are drunk, aren’tcha, sweetheart?” Clint answers him, already knowing the answer with that slightly infuriating sureness that was so sexy a few minutes ago.   
  
“Only a little. I’d absolutely hit on you sober, too, though.” Bucky ignores the under current of need he’s let slip into his voice. Now that he’s gotten close enough to touch this guy, there’s nothing else he wants but more of it. They’re still close, knees pressed together, and Clint is turned toward him, watching carefully with those sharp eyes. Bucky likes the way the guy seems to actually care about his level of sobriety, consent being sexy and all that. His mind slogs through his few options to get this moving toward having Clint care more about his dick, when it occurs to him, “Oh shit, wait. Do you have a boyfriend? Uh. Husband? Wife? Shit.”   
  
Clint drops his hand to Bucky’s waist at that and gives him a little reassuring squeeze, “Nah, just not gonna take advantage of ya’.”   
  
Bucky finishes his water and sets it down with a petulant little huff, “It’s not like that.”   
  
“What’s it like, then, hm?” Clint actually looks like he cares about the answer, his face more serious than Bucky thinks some barroom flirting really warrants.

Bucky really wants to just blurt out for Clint to bend him over the counter and… but no, that’s clearly not going to fly here. Clint is quiet, his fingers tracing a lazy spiral into Bucky’s side as he waits for Bucky to figure out what he actually wants to say. Bucky realizes his only real option here is the truth, and it comes out barely above a whisper, “Want you to take me. Uh. Take care of me?”   
  
“Is that a question, Buck?” 

The thing is, now that he’s said it, Bucky realizes it’s really really not a question. From the moment Clint stalked into the bar, Bucky’s been wanting. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have figured out the exact flavor of want if Clint hadn’t questioned him about it in this gentle but stubborn way. But still, the idea of Clint holding him down, taking his time, working over every inch of Bucky’s skin and just… taking care of him. Yeah, it’s definitely the most appealing thing his brain has managed to conjure up in a long time. He tries to just nod his agreement, but Clint pinches his side a little, and Bucky knows he’s got to use more of his words. “I want that. Definitely. Please?”

Clint hums a pleased little sound to himself and leans forward to press a scruffy kiss to Bucky’s jaw. It only lasts a moment, but it feels electric against his skin, and Bucky tilts his head to offer his neck to Clint, uncaring that they’re sitting in the middle of a busy bar. Clint strokes his fingers gently from Bucky’s jaw down the long column of his neck, then pulls back, “How about this, pretty boy? You still want me to take care of you once you’ve slept off the drinks, you can give me a call.”   
  


Bucky blinks slowly, trying to process whether this is a rejection or not. The soft smile that’s making Clint’s face look fond settles him and he fishes his phone from the pocket of his pants. He hands it over and watches as Clint carefully programs his number in. Feeling a little bratty, he hits the call button as soon as he’s got the phone back. There’s a moment where he’s sure Clint gave him a fake number, and then the overly familiar tune of Ke$ha’s Tik Tok starts jangling from Clint’s jacket. Bucky can’t help the startled laugh that escapes him, and he’s pleased when Clint begins laughing along with him. The guy looks even hotter when he’s relaxed and smiling, Bucky’s skin buzzes with the possibilities of him. 

  
“Yeah, alright.” Bucky finds he doesn’t mind waiting now, with Clint’s hand casually draping across his shoulders. The tension between them eased with their laughter, and it’s easy to start up having a more normal conversation with the older man now that his brain isn’t entirely drowned in images of being wrecked.    
  
It’s fun, and they flirt back and forth while exchanging casual touches. At the end of the night, Clint makes sure Bucky gets into his cab alright and leaves him with a kiss to the cheek. It’s not what Bucky wanted, but he figures he can call Clint in the morning, and that soothes him enough to get him into bed and falling asleep easily, eager for the next day.


End file.
